


Why Does Anyone Do Anything?

by Jambammer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blood, Violence, cross dressing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:34:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jambammer/pseuds/Jambammer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian always knew there was something different about Jim, but he would have never guessed this. He soon finds himself entranced and fascinated by why Jim does what Jim does, like watching a painter in the midst of creating a bloody masterpiece.</p>
<p>Before he knows it, he's tangled in the spider's web too deeply to ever escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Truth

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of a 'what if' conversation with friends, and I couldn't let it go.

Sebastian Moran dioesn't suspect a thing the first time he meets Jim Moriarty.

But then, why should he? Sure he knew the man is bat shit insane, but he figures that was why he was so drawn to him. The taunting voice, the change in pitch, his random yet deliberate movements, his small, crooked smile that just isn’t quite right…

The fact that he knows everything about the sniper just makes Sebastian listen carefully.

Jim had hands him his card, licks his lips, tells him that he hopes to hear from him soon, and walks away whistling a cheery tune that makes Sebastian’s skin crawl.

It isn’t long before he is working _for_ Jim Moriarty. He’d made the call, it had been entirely his choice yet somehow… somehow he felt that it wasn’t entirely his own decision. But Jim has that effect on people. Nothing concerning him was ever their own choice.

It was _his_. Everything was Jim's; freedom was an illusion.

The first time Sebastian does a job for Jim, the Irishman tags along. It unnerves him to have someone watching over his shoulder – literally, right over his shoulder. Jim’s warm breath dances along the skin of his neck – but he supposes that telling his new boss to fuck off on his first day would potentially be disastrous. Jim probably would have him killed right then and there.

Or, perhaps not. For some reason, Jim has taken a liking to him. Sebastian can’t figure it out. They couldn't be more different, from their hair to the clothes they wore to the accents and vocabulary they spoke with. Perhaps because Jim somehow knew what he was really like, even if he hadn’t let the sarcasm run free at that point. Sebastian has a dark side, even if most people didn't ever see it. Jim, of course, did.

But one thing Sebastian never forgets is the look of pure glee that spreads across his boss’s face upon seeing their mark hit the ground in spray of blood. Probably because it reminds him too much of himself, and the _incident_ that had gotten him discharged. He might not have been as quick as Jim, but he could recognize a hunter’s spirit.

That's also the first time he finds Jim Moriarty beautiful, and that too should unnerve him - after all, he's never been with anyone who had below a C cup and doesn't demand payment at some point -, but it doesn't. It _thrills_  him.

He doesn’t know when Jim finds _him_ attractive, but it’s after a particularly messy job a few months later when Jim presses their mouths together in a rough kiss and pins Sebastian against the wall. For such a petite frame, Jim's stronger than he looks. Still, Sebastian _could_  over take him if he wanted to... but he doesn't.

It’s rough and desperate and wonderful except—

“Jim,” Sebastian gasps, breaking the kiss.

“Oh,” Jim just smiles that crooked smile, “never been with a man before, have you? No matter,” Jim grabs Sebastian’s wrist sharply and presses it to his crotch, “you still won’t.”

That’s when Sebastian realizes.

Jim Moriarty is a _woman._


	2. The Woman

It isn’t until he moves in with her that he realizes just how much work Jim puts into making herself into Jim Moriarty. There’s a wig; though it matches her natural colour, its main purpose is to alter her hairline. She binds her chest underneath her suits. There’s prosthetics to give her face a more masculine look, specifically stubble.  Her eyes are unchanged – big and dark and _twisted_ yet lovely.

Sebastian watches her mid transformation, awed by her attention to detail. She catches his gaze in the mirror and smirks.

“I could have been a fantastic makeup artist, don’t you agree?” She asks, dabbing at her neck with something or rather. “What a boring life _that_ would have been.”

It’s a long process, though the results are impeccable. Still, it's easy to see why she prefers to do her work without face to face meetings.

Some would look at her persona of Jim Moriarty and wonder why she wanted to be a man so badly, or if she did want to be a man so badly, why didn’t she go through the process of becoming one? Sebastian does at first, but he soon learns that isn't it. 

Jim _didn’t_ want to be a man at all. It was just another part of the game.

“People take you _much_ more seriously if you’re a man,” she states simply. “Well, sort of. They take you seriously sooner. Call me lazy, but I didn’t want to play all the little games required to earn their respect.” She raises an eyebrow and giggles. “And besides, this is so much _fun._ ”

Of course it is, because _everything_ is just a game to her. She does things just because she _can._

At their flat, she has no problem with her femininity. In fact, Sebastian would argue that she _embraces_ it. She lounges around with her hair down – it isn't long, it had to be shorter for her wig to sit right – humming to herself and occasionally paints her toenails. Sometimes she wears makeup, the downright girly eye shadow and lipstick shit.

She even wears  _dresses._

Jim might have been damn good at being a man, but she knew how to be sexy as _all-fucking-hell_ as a woman.

One night while he’s working on a manuscript, she leans suggestively in the doorway, dressed in tiger print lingerie.

“There’s a wild animal on the loose,” she says lowly, biting down on the blade of one of his prized hunting knives and holding it between her teeth. She holds another in her hands, and runs the edge seductively along her thigh. The slightest bit of pressure would cause her skin to split and spill open. He wonders if her blood is crimson, or black.

Suffice to say, Sebastian's thoughts are no longer on his manuscript.

The one thing that always bothers him is what to call her. Obviously her name isn’t _really_ Jim, and it seems weird to call her Jim when she isn’t being _Jim._ Curiousity eventually prompts him to ask her birth name one day while shes sprawled lazily on the sofa, texting and probably ordering some poor sod’s death.

“Jane,” she answers idly, and he isn’t sure if this is true or not.

In the end, he simply starts calling her Jay. 


	3. Just Enough

To say that Jay is violent is an understatement. But As _Jim Moriarty_ , she has people shot, dismembered, suffocated, and _worse_ , right in front of her and she doesn’t bat an eye. What would nauseate any sane human being only delights her. Sometimes, she even has the nerve to smile.

That really said it all, didn’t it?

“Christ, Jay,” Sebastian says once they're alone, after some of her men have removed thet body, or what was left of it. Most days it doesn't bother him at all, which says _volumes_ about himself, but for some reason this one doesn't sit entirely right with him. “Was that necessary?”

Her head snaps towards him and _oh fuck he’d done it now._

She approaches him slowly. “I’m sorry, did I hear you right?” Jay asks, each word deliberate and low, even though she’d dropped her male voice as soon as they were alone.  “Were you _questioning_ me, dear Sebastian?” She asks, gripping his chin in her hand.  It isn’t gentle, but he knows better than to complain. Not that he would complain. He likes it, and they both know it.

His eyes fixate on her other hand. Effeminate and manicured, but still passable as male. Even though she didn’t change her hands with makeup or gloves, they seemed to change with her. Male when she wanted to be male, but female when she wanted to be female.

God, he _loved_ her hands, and all the things she _did_ with them.

“Of _course_ not,” he dares to reply sarcastically, hoping he hasn’t let his thoughts about her hands creep into his face.

In a second, his skin burns from a slap. Not just a slap, she’d ensured that her nails had left their mark.

“Don’t ever question me,” she warns as his skin begins to burn, really _burn_. Her eyes light up from his reaction. “Like it? My new nail polish. It’s made from snake venom; I got the idea from a book I read a while ago. Or perhaps it was a film. I can’t really remember. I don’t really care.”

“What kind of snake?” Sebastian asks, touching his face gingerly. His skin is hot to the touch, and his nerves scream against the gesture.

“Now, now, I have to keep some things a surprise,” she tells him coyly. “Not enough to be lethal,” she promises, or at least, he hopes it’s a promise, “just enough to _bite.”_

“I’m _sure_ it leaves pretty marks too,” he comments, knowing how she loves to decorate her victims. Or in his case, lover.

When it comes to Jay, is there even a difference?

“Hmm, yes,” she purrs. “I have it on clear right now, but I have other shades. _Blood red_ being one.”

Jay knows _exactly_ how to work him. Red polish drives him crazy. Something about his fixation with her hands, but the crimson just stands out so _beautifully_ against her pale skin. He’s already imagining the markings she could leave on _his_ skin with those claws.

She smiles and drags her hand down his chest as she walks past him, digging her nails in _just enough_.

Sebastian is convinced that she _can_ , in fact, read his mind.

He’s also convinced that he’s just as sane as she is.


	4. Soulmates

“Do you ever think about fate, and destiny?” Jay asks idly, tracing her finger along Sebastian’s chest, memorizing every detail – as if she hasn’t already.

He grunts in reply, taking a long drag from the cigarette between his lips.

This clearly isn’t what she’s looking for, and she lets him know by digging her nails in _just_ enough to be more painful than seductive. “I’m serious, Seb.”

“Since when do you care about destiny and shit like that?” he asks back, arching an eyebrow and looking down at the still form on his chest. Jay doesn’t move apart from her finger, continuing – but lighter now – to roam where it pleased.

“I’m not saying I believe in it,” she corrects him, with that tone of voice that’s just a little bit condescending. “I’m saying it’s a rather fascinating idea. The idea that people are linked before they’re even born, that they’re intertwined before they meet.” Her eyes look up to his. “Well? Don’t you think?”

“I think you’ve been watching too much of that show about the prince and his magic boyfriend,” Sebastian replies coolly, taking another drag.

Jay plucks it from his fingers and presses it to her lips. “I have not,” she tells him defiantly. Raising herself up just enough, she blows the smoke slowly in his face. He fights the urge to flip her over and suck the smoke from that pretty little mouth.

Instead, he takes the cigarette back. “Don’t you have better things to do instead of watching medieval soaps? Like, _oh I don’t know,_ organize _crime?”_

Jay sighs despondently. “Things have been rather quiet in terms of clients lately.”

This is a lie. He’s heard her on the phone, seen her answering emails. “They have not. You’ve just been _picky_ about _which_ crimes you choose to involve yourself in.”

“Well _duh,_ ” she replies in a mocking voice, as if he’d just stated what was perfectly obvious. “I want a crime that’s _worthy_ of my talents. I’m not the _common_ criminal. I do have standards.”

“Right,” he crushes out the remainder of the cigarette in the well used ashtray on the night table beside him. “Just hurry up and get me something to shoot again, will you? _I_ haven’t had a job in weeks.”

“Patience, pet,” Jay assures him, tipping his chin up with her fingernail and smiling down at him. “I’ll find you the perfect job. One worthy of _your_ talents.” She hums happily. “Because you _are_ a talented boy.”

“Why thank you. I’m aware. Sort of why you hired me.”

"Yes, it is." It’s sort of a sweet moment, but it doesn’t last long. Suddenly Jay’s lying beside him, picking at her fingernails the way she does when she’s lost interest in something. “Hurry up and fuck me, Sebastian. And _don’t_ be boring.”

He never can resist a challenge like _that._

It’s only later that he realizes Jay had been trying to suggest they were soul mates. 


	5. Trivial

Normally, when she’s being _Jim_ , Jay will lounge around in her costume for some time even after she’s back at the flat. Why, Sebastian’s not sure, but he’s just stopped asking _why_ when it comes to her.

One thing that never changes is that when she is ready to change out of it, she always lets Sebastian help.

Eventually, _expects_ him to help. He can't say he minds. Helping usually leads to _other_ things, provided Jay's in a agreeable mood.

So today, when she comes in complaining about how tight her outfit feels, Sebastian is rather surprised.

“I _need_ out of this now,” Jay whines, throwing her expensive jacket down to the mercy of the floor and yanks off her tie on the way to their bedroom. “It’s been nearly _unbearable_ all day.”

Late night meeting, Sebastian surmises, considering it’s only noon now and he hadn’t heard her leave. “How was the client?”

“Boring. Predictable. The _job_ however seems as though it could be potentially interesting,” Jay replies, her hands fumbling with the tiny buttons of her white shirt. “Might mean an outing for you,” she says offhandedly, trying to shrug the shirt off.

Sebastian helps her out of the offending garment and tosses it on the bed. “Oh?” He notices her flinch as he pulls off her undershirt, but as she doesn't say anything about it, he doesn't either.

Jim’s not in a divulging mood about anything. “Soon.” She winces when he touches her breasts to undo the blinding. “Careful,” she warns, but it’s not a hiss as he would expect; it’s more pain, and curiousity, as though she’s cataloging a new sensation.

Not wanting to gain a new scar, Sebastian obeys and peels the binding away from her chest slowly. He can see her face in the mirror; Jay’s in _pain_ , and she’s _not_ enjoying it. She _is_ studying it, just as he suspected.

Once her breasts are free, she swats Sebastian’s hands away. It’s _almost_ funny. Jay, _Jim fucking Moriarty_ , responsible for innumerable crimes, tortures, and horrific deaths, is complaining about _sore tits_. Still, he has the sense not to laugh.

“Sore?” He just asks, taking one of his shirts out of the closet. The way she’s acting, any of hers would be too tight, and he doesn't feel like listening to her complain any more than he has to. He’d rather hear about the job. She doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t expect one. “Have they gotten bigger?” He asks, tossing her the garment. Jay’s a small breasted woman normally, which made binding easier for her.

Jay catches the shirt and looks down a moment before pulling it over her head. “They seem to have, yes. But apparently that’s a normal side effect or something with pregnancy.”

Sebastian’s sure his heart stops.

Jay looks over her shoulder. “Oh sorry, didn’t I tell you? I thought something trivial had slipped my mind.”

“Trivial?” He finally manages to choke out. “You call being fucking **pregnant** _trivial?_ ”

“What else is it?” She shrugs dismissively and scowls at his expression. “Don’t be like that, dear. Nothing’s completely effective. I am human too, or do you forget that?”

In truth, he probably does. “So why are you _keeping_ the fucking thing?”

Jay tuts. “It’s a _baby_ , Sebastian,” not that she cares, “I’ve never had a baby before; I thought it might be rather _fun._ ” She smiles at him, but it’s the wicked smile that makes him shiver.

He's having a child with a psychopath worse than he is.


	6. Expected

Her pregnancy goes as is to be expected. Which, when it comes to her, means nothing is expected. She does everything out of the ordinary.

They devise new aliases for whenever they have to deal with doctors or any sort of medical personnel. Sebastian decides to decides to keep his first name, and Jay’s in a good mood because she agrees to this. Not so much a good mood, but a lazy mood.

“I’ll just go by Jane,” she decides, stretching her arms above her head. “Now I’m going for a nap. Wake me and I’ll put your fingers through a meat grinder. One by one.”

“Not so fast, Jay,” he stops her, and she shoots him a look that if they could kill, he would have been dead three times over. “We need a last name for our married selves.” Out of some misguided idea of romance, Jay has decided they will be married for their aliases.

“Moriarty,” she shrugs. “It’s common enough, people wouldn’t think twice. They tend to ignore the _obvious_.”

“It’s not safe to—“

“Darling, safe isn’t _fun_.”

Some days, he finds it easy to forget that she’s pregnant. She’s still thin, just a bit curvier. Her mood swings have become slightly more volatile, but it’s nothing that he can’t handle; he’ll just end up with a few more scars. Some days, he _likes_ to forget that she’s got another human inside of her, partially because he’s never liked kids nor saw himself as the father type, but also because he likes to forget that Jay is human, so it means  _Jim_ is human as well.

Today is not one of those days. “Jay, fucking think about the kid. Should anything happen to you, you wind up arrested or some shit…”

“That won’t _ever_ happen unless I _want_ it to.”

He _hates_ that smug look she’s wearing, but he continues on. “Having the name Moriarty could only cause more trouble for _all_ of us. Even you.” Jay doesn’t care about him, or their baby, but she does care about herself.

“Fine,” she relents with a wave of her hand. “Anything in mind.” It's a question, but it's also a statement.

“Morian.”

“Ugh.”

“It’s more Moriarty than Moran,” he says defensively, “and it is my fucking kid too, it can have a _little_ part of my name.”

Had Jay not been so tired, she’d certainly argue more. She wouldn't shrug and wave again and say, “Alright. Now I’m quite serious about the meat grinder, darling. Your fingers will still be attached to your hands, by the way. Just in case that wasn’t _clear_.”

Sometimes, Sebastian thinks he might even _prefer_ pregnant Jay.

He reconsiders this when the baby scans the next month are labeled “baby Morian.” There’s no denying it anymore, the proof is there; a tiny grey blob that somewhat resembles a person.

Then she starts to show.

Jay’s only reaction is to huff and say “Definitely no more meetings face to face. I prefer to do my work from my computer anyways. That reminds me, darling, I have a job for you. Do get it over with quickly, I want you back here and naked before the hour’s up. If you’re not, you may find your favourite _toys_ have disappeared. I won’t tell you what I’ll do to _you._ Get going, I’ll text you the details.”

Instead of cravings, she’d send him on to kill someone on a whim.

Life could have been worse.


	7. Inconvenient

Jay bounces back and forth from adoring mother (well, perhaps not _adoring_ , but more caring than she normally is) to intent on removing the child from her own body.

“But it won’t let me _sleep_ ,” she whines after Sebastian wrestles the knife out of her hands.

“If you wanted to kill it, you should have done so _six fucking months_ ago.”

He can’t explain it. He’s never liked children – insufferable little brats – but he’s strangely attached to one that he’s never even seen, and he’ll be damned before he let Jay do anything to hurt it. It’s absurd – he doesn’t _want_ to be attached to this _thing_ , but he _is._

He is, and he can’t deny it.

It’s not just the baby he’s possessive of, it’s Jay too.

“I hate the way the doctor was looking at you,” he snarls as they drive home. “He’d look better with a bullet between his eyes.”

Jay laughs and folds her arms behind her head. “That is a lovely image. Maybe after he’s delivered the baby for us. It can be your present to it.”

“First birthday maybe, when it’ll be guaranteed to see.”

“If we keep it that long. I might get bored.”

It’s not even a threat, that; it’s Jay being honest.

In the time they’ve known each other, they’ve done a lot of _fucked up_ things, but none so much as making a new person. It had been an accident, but they’d done it. Jay is the very devil herself, and Sebastian? He knows he isn’t much better. What would their child be?

He’s thrilled and frightened all at once, all from a person he hasn’t even fucking seen. He’s only felt it.

Jay’s not usually one for any kind of gentle, affectionate physical contact; she prefers things rough and ‘interesting.’ Maybe it’s because of the wretched creature, but sometimes she snuggles up against his back and wraps her arms around his waist. Sometimes when she does this, he can feel the thing kicking.

There’s one day where they’re sitting together – Sebastian cleaning one of his guns, Jay texting with a client – when she takes his hand and places it over her growing stomach. He’s about to tell her to piss off and let him finish when he feels the flutter beneath his hand.

Jay turns her head to him. “Now I’m sure you can see how _annoying_ it is,” she says flatly, looking over at him through half-lidded eyes.

When the day finally comes, Jay’s in the middle of a chat with a client who’s failed her. She stares coldly at the screen, typing her answers back and ignoring the sniveling coming through the speakers.

It’s Sebastian who notices.

“Jay.”

“Not now.”

“No, Jay…”

“I said not now. Don’t make me remove your tongue; I rather like it.”

“You would miss it too much to remove it,” he reminds her, “but either you’ve pissed yourself, or your water’s broken.”

Jay looks down and studies her legs as well as the floor. “So it has.” She looks to him with an utterly bored expression. “I suppose this means we have to go to the hospital or something?”

“Well I sure as hell am not delivering it, so yes.” Though he probably _could_ , if he has to.

Jay shuts her computer and mutters about it being ‘ _so inconvenient_.’


	8. Harvester

If she found the chat being interrupted inconvenient, the next fourteen and a half hours she spends in labour must be just _brutal_ for her agenda. Giving birth? Really not a good day but she could fit it in next week. Sebastian could just picture her arguing with the doctors. (Surprisingly though, she doesn't.)

He’s almost proud of the little bastard for it’s timing.

Almost, but he finds the 14 and a half hours of waiting to be _hell._ He and Jay never have to act like a ‘normal’ couple for more than an hour, two hours tops. Now, he has to smile at nurses and doctors and wear a goddamned ring because they’re supposed to be married.

Jay, of course, thinks the whole thing is hilarious and plays the part of a first time mother and soft spoken wife with glee. It’s all a game to her. She’s giving _birth_ and it’s still nothing but a _game_. She occasionally bats her eyes and tells Sebastian to hold her hand through contractions – which he _does_ , of course, because she never forgets _anything_ and he’d hate to see how he’d pay for it later - and nervously talks about how she can't believe they're about to be parents. She's quite the actress; he almost buys her act too.

When their baby finally arrives after one last push and Jay crying out – Sebastian’s not sure whether or not this is part of the act, normally she handles pain quite well and even _enjoys_ it – he presses a kiss to the tired mother’s damp forehead as a good husband would.

Husband, pet… same thing to her.

“You have a daughter,” the doctor announces with a wide smile visible from behind his mask. “Baby girl.” He holds her up for both parents to see.

“Oh, she’s beautiful,” Jay breathes, and everyone in the room just accepts it as a proud mother.

Maybe she is, but Sebastian knows that she only sees their daughter as beautiful because she’s covered in blood. But, he has to agree – she _is_ beautiful. That is, she’s as beautiful as something scrunched up, screaming, covered in blood and mucus with a bit of dark hair on her head can be. Then again, the blood may be why Jay finds their daughter beautiful. She's... she's a  _sight,_ Sebastian supposes.

Jay reaches forward, eager to take the squirming bundle when it’s handed to her.

“Tessa,” she coos, holding their newborn close and running her finger over the tiny face. “It means harvester,” she adds, looking at him and smiling.

Harvester of _what_ , exactly, she doesn’t say, but Sebastian can imagine what she has in store for their new daughter.

Tessa Temperance Morian enters the world relatively unnoticed, but her parents are determined to make sure she doesn't stay unnoticed. 


	9. Just Like Your Mother

There isn't time in their lives for a  _dog,_  let alone a  _daughter._

Correction; there isn't time in  _Jay's_  life for a daughter. She deems there to be plenty of time in  _Sebastian's_  life, however. He disagrees. He even disagrees to her face, and all she does is laugh.

"Oh  _Sebastian,_ " she giggles, running a finger over his lips, "haven't you learned by now that what you think doesn't matter? It's my way, or they'll never find what's left of you on the highway."

After the fourth night with no sleep, he suggests giving the kid up for adoption. If it had been anyone else's kid, he'd have ditched it  _anywhere_  by now. But she's _his_ , and he  _can't_. The thought makes him sick. Giving her away to someone who  _wants_  her is a perfectly acceptable option.

Jay shoots this option down. "I have  _plans_  for her."

"Then how about  _her loving mother_ looks after her sometime?"

"I do, occasionally."

But the majority of the time, it's him and a bottle of formula, and the baby girl who seems eternally hungry.

The fifth night, he pretends to sleep through the crying coming through the walls as well as the monitor.

Jay doesn't. "Sebastian, she's crying. Deal with her."

He doesn't move, but his grip on the pillow tightens just a bit. "You know what? It's your turn, Jay."

"No, I don't believe it is. Don't make me threaten you; I'm not very creative when I've just been woken up and I much prefer to be creative." She turns on to her side, away from him. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll have her trained to sleep through the night in no time."

Bitch.

The baby too.

The latter he tells to her face.

"You're a little bitch, you know that?" He tells her, lifting her out of her cot. Tessa curls up against him, quieting for a moment before screaming once more.

When he agreed to take the job as an assassin, he never thought he'd end up with a daughter. Had he known, he probably would have turned the job down. No, he  _would_  have turned the job down, would have  _never_  spoken to  _her_  ever again and would have lived the rest of his life in disgraced mediocrity. Booze, sex, shitty flat somewhere… It wouldn't have been the glamorous life he has with Jay, but he wouldn't be trapped.

He certainly wouldn't be sitting in a nursery, unwillingly feeding a baby who owns more clothing than he does.

"You are a bitch," he continues on, "just like your mother. You've apparently got her eyes and hair, but you've got her fucking demanding personality as well. You two will be quite a team someday, I'm sure. Once  _I_  have you  _trained_  well enough."

Tessa wriggles in his arms, her tiny hands flailing and folding about as she frantically sucks down the formula. She hasn't figured out how to use them yet. Funny; he'd had the notion that any child of Jay's would come out knowing advanced mathematics, but Tessa seems so…  _normal._  One of her hands finds the one of his that's holding the bottle, and her tiny fingers lay against his.

Sebastian sighs and takes her hand, holding it with his against the bottle. "This is how you feed yourself. Do me a favour and learn this quickly so I can actually get some fucking sleep. I shoot people for a living, I need to be somewhat rested." Her eyes look up at him as he talks. "You're going to have me wrapped around your finger, aren't you? I'm going to bend over backwards whenever you want something." He shakes his head. "What'd I say? Just like your mother."

Just like her mother.


	10. Or More Like Father

She goes with him on his morning runs. At first he feels ridiculous with a baby strapped to his back, but she seems to enjoy it, and it keeps her quiet.

Over time, he forgets what it was like to run alone.

Tessa is two years old when she takes an interest in Sebastian's guns.

He doesn't notice when it happens, just that it does. One day while he's cleaning his guns and has pieces occupying the space of the dining room table, there's bright blue eyes peering across from the other side. She doesn't touch anything, just watches, observing quietly.

The first time he notices her, he ignores her, but watches her to be sure she doesn't touch anything.

The second time, she sits at his feet, blue eyes peering up through long messy blonde waves half tied back with a bow that probably cost more than most of his guns put together (He doesn't even want to _know_ how much her little crimson dress cost).

The third time, he sits her on his lap and explains what he's doing every step. Tessa stays silent but grins widely up at him. He decides that he very much likes that smile, and presses a quick kiss to the top of her head.

By the time she is three years old, she can fully operate any of Sebastian's guns, and even has a collection of working guns scaled down for her use; Mummy's gift to her, which seems to make up for the fact that Mummy doesn't spend much time with her. He takes her for target practice, and soon learns that she's not a bad shot.

Sebastian realizes _just_ how screwed up he is when he realizes that he's _so_ fucking proud of her, rather than being horrified that his three year old daughter is better at shooting than many adults, but he honestly doesn't care.

She looks over at him and beams, her safety equipment just a little too big and looking lopsided on her head. "Did I do good, Daddy?"

"You did fantastic, sweetheart."

"Will Mummy be proud?"

Unlikely. Jay chooses when she wishes to lavish Tessa with affection, and when she doesn't want to even acknowledge the girl's existence. She yearns for Jay's approval so much; _that_ he does find disturbing, and heartbreaking. "Of course."

Jay, for her part, watches the two carefully during the times she's at home and not busy with work. Sebastian sometimes catches her studying the little girl, her expression unreadable. Sometimes he thinks she may be jealous of how much like him Tessa is growing to be, not just in her hair and eyes – though she still has Jay's eye shape.

This is confirmed for him when Jay is particularly affectionate and handsy one night. Handsy naturally turns into much more, but it's different this time. Sebastian just _knows_ it (not that he complains; Sebastian's not one to turn down a good shag). There's something in her eyes, a cold determination of sorts. He tries to push the thought from his mind and focus on the _other_ sensations.

Still, he's not surprised when, a few weeks later when Jay is out undercover on a job, he wakes up to a plastic stick on the counter by the coffee pot bearing two pink lines.


End file.
